


Traditions

by temporalheadache



Category: Batman (Comics), Catwoman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8875258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporalheadache/pseuds/temporalheadache
Summary: Between his social obligations, ever expanding family, and caped crusade, Bruce finds it a challenge to have a holiday dinner date with Selina.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AHaplessBystander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHaplessBystander/gifts).



> Merry Christmas!

It was December, and the air held the promise of the snow, clear and crisp even in Gotham. Bruce took a deep breath of it as he took one last look over the city, deceptively peaceful in the early morning. It was quiet, for the moment, and the streetlights twinkling in the streets far below gave the night a picturesque quality that he appreciated even as he recognized it for the lie it was.

Still, the lack of sirens, screams, and other sounds of mayhem meant that for now he could head in, leaving his radio on as he made his way home. December was traditionally one of the worst times of year for crime -- long nights and busy stores made a particularly tempting mix for crooks, and there were always those desperate enough to try to steal themselves some holiday joy instead of working for it. Bruce pitied them, but he didn't let them go.

Wayne Manor was as quiet as the city he'd left when he let himself in, Alfred keeping an eye on the monitors in the cave and Damian asleep, having accompanied Bruce on his earlier patrol. Even the bats were sleepy, nestled together on the cave's ceiling when Bruce checked in on them. It was chilly in the cave, winter seeping in through the stone, and Bruce smiled when he saw the steaming mugs of hot cocoa sitting beside Alfred at the computer. He helped himself to one after stripping off the most uncomfortable parts of the suit and quickly towelling off his hair.

"All's quiet, Master Bruce," Alfred said, nodding at him. "The police picked up the members of the Batelli gang that you left for them about twenty minutes ago. Nice bit of work, that."

"Let's see if they can actually hold onto them for more than a few hours this time," Bruce said. He glanced over the screens, but nothing caught his eye as needing his attention. "I'm going to catch some sleep--"

"Actually, if you have a moment, I'd like you to look over your December schedule, please," Alfred said, his mild tone and polite words belied by the fact that he was already pulling Bruce's social calendar up on the monitors. Bruce blinked at the sudden array of colours, each day apparently full to the brim with events requiring his presence.

"Alfred," he said, "I don't think there are that many hours in the day."

"I've seen you go without sleep for days, Master Bruce. I'm sure you can manage to find the time for your social obligations." Alfred zoomed in on the first week. "Now, the tree lighting ceremony at City Hall is the on the sixth, and they've specifically asked you to join the mayor on the dais, as you were the one who donated the tree--"

"Did I?" Bruce asked.

"Yes. A lovely fir tree this year, sir. Very tall."

"I'm sure the Mayor is happy, then," Bruce said.

"Yes, very. That's why he offered you the honour of placing the final ornament."

Bruce sighed, resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to wiggle his way out of anything that Alfred felt was important.

"That evening is, of course, the annual Aberfoyle winter masquerade -- they invited Master Dick and Master Damian as well this year. Your masks will be ready at Cresthaven jewellers tomorrow. The seventh is the Gotham Women's Society's toy drive luncheon. I believe the most popular toy this year is the Red Hood stuffed doll, and yes, Master Jason has already been bragging about that to everyone. The eighth is the Gotham Academy's annual holiday concert, which Master Damian is very keen to attend. I believe he's more interested in his acquaintances in the school than the music, which is for the best, if last year's debacle is anything to go by."

Bruce winced as he remembered the concert from the year before, which had rather prominently featured a clarinet section capable of making screeching noises so piercing that he'd been afraid that his wine glass would shatter.

Alfred continued listing off events, gesturing to the screen as needed. Bruce let them wash over him, a Christmas party here, a fundraiser there, three Hannukah dinners in a row at one point -- he'd have to watch his latke intake if he wanted to keep in shape. The last thing he needed during December was to put on the holiday weight that everyone seemed to talk about and have to refit his suit to contain his new stomach.

"And on the eighteenth, Master Dick and Master Jason have invited you for a holiday breakfast," Alfred continued, snapping Bruce back into paying attention.

"Dick and Jason are making breakfast? Together?" Bruce repeated, not sure that he'd heard that correctly.

"Master Dick is hosting the event, but I believe that he has been banned from the kitchen that morning. Miss Gordon will be helping Master Jason with the cooking."

"I see," Bruce said, feeling relieved that he was less likely to get food poisoning with someone sensible involved. "Did they come up with that idea on their own?"

"Yes," Alfred replied, looking proud. "Master Dick insisted that a proper team meal was required. There will be Christmas Day, of course--" the pointed look that accompanied that statement did not go unnoticed by Bruce, who had once tried to slip out on Christmas morning in order to stop the Penguin from getting a delivery of illegal weaponry and had gotten thoroughly reprimanded for it-- "but this is intended to be for all of the assorted allies and friends."

"All crammed into Dick's apartment, with Jason and Barbara cooking," Bruce said.

"Precisely. I was also invited, with strict orders to 'sit down and enjoy myself'," Alfred said. He looked disapproving of the idea, and Bruce had to hide a smile in his mug as he pictured Alfred trying to remain idle while chaos took over Dick's tiny apartment kitchen. Even with the inevitable mess that was sure to be made of the breakfast, he was touched at the fact that Dick and Jason had worked together on it. Dick was often the one pulling everyone together, but Jason was usually the one pushing them away. Maybe Dick had finally found a way through the walls that Jason insisted on building up. Bruce hoped so.

"I'll be there," Bruce promised.

"As I expected," Alfred said, nodding at him. "Now, that evening is the Messiah at the Gotham Opera."

Bruce stared up at his calendar and tried to find an empty evening on it. It took some searching to find anything that wasn't taken up, but once he did, he waited for Alfred to take a breath and said, "Dinner with Selina, December 16th. See if you can book a reservation at Rinaldo Spadafore's new restaurant." He was pretty sure there was a six month waiting list, but he also knew that Alfred would have the best table in the house booked for him by tomorrow evening. It wasn't a move he pulled often, but given that he was apparently booked solid for the rest of the month, he was willing to take advantage of his position in the city in order to have a special evening with Selina.

"An excellent choice, sir," Alfred said.

By the time Bruce had approved his own schedule, with a few minor adjustments, the sun was breaking over the horizon and Bruce was barely holding back a yawn. It had been a long night.

"Good work, Alfred," he said. "Everyone will have to pull together for patrols, but I think we'll make it through the holidays intact."

"Perhaps we could even enjoy ourselves," Alfred said dryly.

"We'll see," Bruce said. The calendar glowed on the screen and he spared it one last glance before looking away. Things were never that neat and orderly once plans met reality.

True to form, chaos set in nearly immediately. The tree lighting ceremony was interrupted by a protest group calling for the Mayor to be impeached due to the prevalence of vigilantes in Gotham. The Aberfoyle masquerade led Bruce to a plot by the Court of Owls, and Dick had nearly ended up knocking out Mrs. Aberfoyle's elderly sister when one of the Owls had switched masks with her. Three other parties were crashed by Gotham's usual crew of villains and malcontents, including Mr. Freeze's ill-advised attempt to take over a public skating rink as his new headquarters.

During his rare time off from social obligations, Bruce patrolled the city, foiling carjackings and muggings, pickpocketing and murder. Even Jason accepted Alfred's patrol calendar with only the slightest grumbling; the Yuletide called for all hands on deck.

By the time December 16th rolled around, Bruce was more than ready for a nice, peaceful dinner with Selina. The only time he'd so much as caught a glimpse of her was at the Gotham Ballet Company's performance of the Nutcracker, but he'd spent that evening so focused on keeping Cass from climbing out of the box seat to get a better look at the dancers that he hadn't even had a chance to find her in the crowds. She'd been suspiciously good at avoiding his party circuit, which meant that either she was keeping to herself this year or, more likely, that she was plying her trade during Gotham's social season and wanted to stay away from his prying eyes.

He'd managed to get nearly dressed, with only a pair of cufflinks and a shoe shine remaining, before the alarm sounded on his phone. Poison Ivy was in Robinson Park, and although none of the reports detailed actual damage being done, it didn't mean that there wasn't something in the works. By the time Bruce was geared up and ready to go, the chatter included Harley Quinn being there as well.

The park was quiet when Bruce arrived, the thick layer of snow covering the ground only slightly gray-tinged from Gotham's grit. He quickly made his way towards the arbouretum, where the plants were the most numerous. There were a few people out in the early evening, mostly couples walking hand in hand, with a few families scattered here and there. None of them looked alarmed or hurried, which was either a good sign or a very bad one. Bruce found Ivy at the third spot on his list -- the rose garden, sprouting surprisingly full roses for the dead of winter. Ivy and Harley were sitting on a bench in the middle of the garden, Harley giggling delightedly and drinking from an oversized mug of what appeared to be hot chocolate.

"Batsy!" Harley said, waving at him. "Come have some cocoa."

"I don't drink on the job," Bruce replied, earning another giggle from Harley. He glanced over at Ivy, who gave him a wry smile.

"She wanted roses," Ivy said, looking fondly at Harley. "I'm not pushing them too hard. They'll be fine with a good winter's rest."

"Just roses?" Bruce asked.

"Just roses," Ivy promised. "Well. I might find some mistletoe later."

Harley lit up at that and Bruce decided that was a sign to take his leave. Duke was on patrol in a little while -- he could check in again to make sure that things hadn't gone downhill, but Ivy seemed to be in a good mood and Harley was still doing her best to stay in the light these days. Besides, he had a dinner date.

As he reached the Batmobile, he realized that his search through the park had taken more time than he'd intended. He was already running late. Even with all the tools at his disposal -- an impossibly fast car and a butler who managed to have everything ready as soon as he stepped out -- he didn't get to the restaurant until over an hour after he'd been expected. The maitre d' gave him a look of disdain that would have made a lesser man flinch when Bruce asked about his table.

"We have very strict rules regarding table reservations, sir. Your guest was on time, and she enjoyed a wonderful meal. I'm afraid you'll have to wait to experience the same pleasure -- I believe our next available opening is in mid-July."

Bruce winced. There was no sign of Selina in the restaurant, which was full to the brim with well-dressed couples. "I take it my guest left?"

"Yes, sir. The bill, however, remains." The man pulled out a discrete leather folder and presented it to Bruce with a flourish. Bruce bit back a sigh -- he was already getting enough curious glances -- and paid without comment.

"I'll take that reservation for July," he said.

"Mm. That one has been filled. I can offer you a table on September 28th."

"Done," Bruce said.

"Very well, sir."

Bruce checked his phone as he left the restaurant, not at all surprised to see a voicemail from Selina.

"Hello, lover. The dinner was delicious. Too bad you missed it. I'd offer you the leftovers, but there weren't any. Maybe next time!"

Bruce sighed and called Selina back, gritting his teeth when he got her voicemail. He left her a quick message apologising for his tardiness and asked her to let him know a date when she'd be willing to let him make it up to her. A few minutes later, he got a text message saying, "The 20th. Noon. Le Chat Bleu."

Knowing Selina as he did, Bruce recognized both the olive branch and the claws holding it. She'd given him another chance, but her displeasure with him was obvious. He couldn't blame her -- she'd mentioned more than once that Christmas was not a favourite time of hers. The orphanage had not been a festive place when she'd been growing up, and she had missed out on many of the holiday traditions and cultural touchpoints that others adored. Their yearly dinner was her one main concession to the season, and he'd missed it because he'd been out chasing non-existent crime.

Bruce barely had time to think about his plans over the next few days. The "First Annual Bat-Fam Breakfast", as Dick named it, was every bit the disaster that Bruce had expected. Had Alfred not been there to save the day, a good dozen of the costumed crime-fighters of Gotham would have been down for the count with a particularly bad case of food poisoning. Despite that -- and the constant squabbling, bickering, and occasionally knife-fighting that broke out across the table -- Bruce enjoyed himself, especially once everyone had eaten enough that they were too full to bother picking fights. They'd ended up piled into Dick's tiny living room, watching a terrible pop music Christmas special on TV, and Alfred had even managed to catch a photo of them looking content and peaceful. Bruce already had plans to frame it and hang it on the wall to remind himself that it was, in fact, something that had happened. By comparison, the assassination attempt of the entire choir during the Messiah seemed commonplace.

The 20th dawned gray and damp, the cold seeping in through the stones of the Manor and up through the soles of Bruce's feet as he did his morning stretching routine. He'd made sure that there were a few people on patrol that day -- Cass, Tim, and Duke -- and he gave himself plenty of time to get there. None of that helped when his trip downtown was interrupted by a crowd of people running through the streets. From the yelling, he gathered that Croc had made an appearance nearby. With a glance at the clock, Bruce quickly changed into his gear and followed the chaos back to its source.

"Waylon," he said, dropping from an overhang to land in the plaza where Croc was standing. "What brings you above ground?"

"Christmas," Croc said. He flicked a clawed hand out to indicate the bags and tables around him. "Toys for the kids. Came to get some for my kids, only they don't seem to want to give me any. No Christmas spirit here."

Bruce looked at the toy drive sign above the tables, then down at the lone volunteer shivering behind one of the chairs. "Is there a rule about who gets the toys?"

"Needy children, Mr. Batman," the man said, voice cracking. "This goes to the Wayne Foundation. They--people can apply, and then--" He stopped speaking, swallowing dryly, and then appeared to lose the ability to start again.

"So how does one apply?" Bruce asked, patiently.

"There's a form--" the man said, pointing vaguely upwards.

"Hm." Bruce picked up the paperwork. "And for those without an address?"

"We have a pick up location."

"Well then. If Mr. Jones fills out the form, he shouldn't have any problem picking up some toys for the children in his care."

"I--suppose not?" the man said, shooting Croc a terrified look.

"There. Christmas spirit." Bruce held out the form to Croc, who held up his hands.

"Can't hold a pen very well," he said.

Bruce spent the next fifteen minutes watching as the volunteer shakily filled out the form. Once everything was completed and Croc had disappeared into the sewers, the volunteer sat down heavily on a chair and burst into tears. In a way, Bruce was impressed -- most people would have done that first. He made a note to see about giving the young man a reward for his efforts on behalf of the charity, and also to make sure that the toy drive was well-stocked. First, he had to get to lunch.

It took a few moments to get back into his suit, which was no longer as neat and tidy as Alfred would like, and rounded the corner to where La Chat Bleu stood. He was a little late -- 20 minutes, if his watch was accurate, which he knew it was -- but not so much that he would miss out on lunch completely --

Except that the restaurant was dark. He stood on the sidewalk in front of it, staring up at the "Open" sign hanging incongruously next to a chair jammed under the doorknob. The lights were off, and when he peered in through the window, the place had the look of quick abandonment. Obviously the lunchtime crowd had caught word of the monster down the street and made a break for it -- Selina apparently included.

"I had soup dumped in my hair by a screaming socialite, and an old man hit me in the shins with his cane for not running away fast enough," Selina said when she answered the phone. "I am at home, and I am not leaving for the rest of the day. I may not leave for the rest of the month."

"What if I come by with takeout?" Bruce offered.

There was a long pause, then Selina said, "No, thanks. I've got delivery on the way, and you have the museum fundraiser in an hour. We'll figure something out." Her voice had warmed noticeably, and Bruce smiled despite the rejection.

"We always do," he said.

However, the days just before Christmas were by far the busiest, and despite Bruce's best efforts, he couldn't get out of any of the events on his calendar. Selina sounded less pleased every time they spoke, and Bruce was starting to think he'd wake up on Christmas to a cat-shaped lump of coal in his stocking. By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, he had given up on seeing her before the 26th -- and that was only if he could somehow leave the Schwarz's Hanukkah dinner early, which wasn't likely.

When the report came crackling in through the radio, he thought for a moment that he'd heard wrong.

"Repeat: Catwoman has stolen the star from the Town Hall Christmas Tree. All units, keep an eye out."

"Well, that's a seasonally appropriate crime," Alfred said. "I believe tonight's patrol are Orphan, Batwoman, and Red Hood. Shall I let them know?"

"No," Bruce said, shaking his head. "I'll go. It's my tree, after all."

"Of course." Alfred turned away to start preparing for Bruce's exit from the cave, but not before Bruce caught a glimpse of his amused expression.

There was a crowd around the tree when Bruce arrived, hiding the Batmobile in a local alley and taking to the rooftops. Most people were pointing up at the empty spot on the top of the tree, although a few determined carolers were still making the rounds, not quite drowning out the conversations. Bruce also spotted a handful of local pickpockets taking advantage of the crowds; a quick call to the police brought some officers into the crowd as Bruce scanned the skyline for an out of place shadow.

Everything on the rooftops was still. For a moment, Bruce wondered if the theft was less a "come find me" message and more of an expression of disappointment, but then he caught sight of something glittering at the very tip of the tree. When he used his binoculars to zoom in on it, he realized it was a glass rose.

The arbouretum held another clue, nestled in one of the rosebushes. The blue cat statue led Bruce back to the spot of their missed lunch, where he found a W taped to the door -- it fluttered away in a gust of wind, and he was glad he'd made good time. The path to the top of Wayne tower was easy enough -- express elevator to his office, then up the hidden staircase and out to the rooftop.

Even though he was expecting the chill, the frigid air took his breath away for a moment. He looked around the area, catching sight of a glow coming from behind the maintenance stairs. When he turned the corner, Selina was sitting on a blanket, looking quite comfortable despite the cold, with a bottle of wine and a couple of boxes of take out. The star was attached to the wall behind her, the glow lighting the scene softly.

"I was going to make a full five course meal, but getting it up the side of the building seemed like a recipe for culinary disaster," she said, smiling.

"Well, so long as the wine made it here," Bruce said, sitting down across from her. He pushed his cowl back and gave her a fondly apologetic look. "I've been a fairly dismal date these past few weeks, haven't I?"

"I knew your scheduling difficulties when we started this," Selina said. "Although next time I'm going to make sure that everyone lays low for one night so we can have a nice dinner. Speaking of which, have a spring roll."

They ate their appetizers on the roof before moving back down to Bruce's office, where the cutting wind couldn't cool their food. The building was quiet around them, their conversation soft and comfortable.

"I should get going," Bruce said finally. "I have to pick up everyone's presents from the cache I hid them in. Last year I tried to keep them in the manor and every single one was found within a day." He shook his head.

"That's what you get for training your kids to be detectives," Selina said, laughing at his rueful expression.

Bruce went towards the door, then paused, his hand resting on the doorknob. He turned around after a long moment of silence.

"Come home with me," he offered. "Spend the night. Have Christmas with us."

Selina stopped in the middle of picking up the empty wine bottle and looked up at him, surprised.

"Christmas is for family," she said, but she didn't shake her head.

"Please," Bruce said, softly, crossing back over to her. He reached out a hand, and she took it, allowing herself to be pulled upright and held in his arms.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

He didn't answer, but he did lean in and kiss her warmly, one hand pressed softly against her back. He stepped back and brushed a thumb over her cheek and she sighed and tilted her head.

"Fine," she said. "But I'm not helping with the dishes."

"Alfred wouldn't let you," Bruce said, smiling at her.

They took their own routes to the manor, Bruce stopping to retrieve presents and Selina to pack a bag. Bruce informed Alfred of their extra Christmas guest, and wasn't in the least surprised when he found a beautifully wrapped gift with Selina's name on it in Alfred's precise handwriting under the tree.

"If you hadn't invited her, Master Bruce, I would have made that call myself," Alfred said. "Now, get wrapping. Master Damian can only be distracted for so long."

Christmas morning dawned clear and bright. Despite his upbringing, Damian had enthusiastically embraced the tradition of waking everyone up early, and Bruce was pulled downstairs to the living room shortly after the break of dawn. Dick and Jason were on the loveseat, Dick bright-eyed and Jason clinging to a cup of coffee, half-leaning against Dick's shoulder. Damian was on the floor, eyeing the pile of presents under the tree thoughtfully. Tim and Stephanie were curled together on the couch with Cass beside them, asking quiet questions about Christmas breakfast. Alfred was standing the doorway with another cup of coffee, which he handed to Bruce before Bruce could think to ask for it. When Selina stepped into view, hair sleep-tousled and eyes soft, he felt his heart go warm in his chest. There were times when he forgot to be grateful for all the wonderful things he had in his life, but today was not one of those times.

"Thank you for being here," he said as Damian dove into the gift pile.

"Thank you for inviting me," she said, voice amused. "I guess you're lucky that I don't have many Christmas traditions."

"Maybe this should be the start of one, then," he suggested.

She looked up at him with bright eyes.

"I think I'd like that."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to diefleder_tey for the beta, and caffeine for letting me finish this even after a ridiculous work week.


End file.
